A Christmas Drabble
by Xanagar
Summary: Den-O. Ryoutarou gives Yuuto a gift; naturally, Yuuto reacts in his usual fashion. Boy love implied . Don't like, don't read.


**Overview**

Title: A Christmas Drabble

Author: Xanagar

Part: One-Shot

Rating: T

Genre: Romance

Series: _Masked Rider Den-O_

Pairing(s): Yuuto/Ryoutarou

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of _Masked Rider Den-O. _I did not gain any profit in producing this fan fiction. I do, however, take responsibility for the abhorrent cheesiness induced by this terribly short drabble.

**Warning(s)**

None. Unless you consider the _hardly-uncanon-because-they-subjectify-themselves _scenario of two Japanese men horror-inducing. I didn't think so.

**Author's Note**

It's not Christmas yet. In fact, it's not even close. But I was getting some coffee on my way to philosophy class today, and the special was called 'Christmas in a Cup'. I tried some, and nostalgia ensued appropriately. So from that, this (hilariously) short drabble came to life. And it's November.

~*~

Yuuto enjoyed the holidays. They implied a sense of peace, a rare occasion when the world slowed down to observe the happiness it managed to host. A sense of overwhelming innocence evaporated into the hidden crevices of the city; there was joy, gaiety, benevolence; people were genuinely happy. Snow fell onto the earth in large clusters. The warmth of good spirits far outweighed the cold, biting air. Yuuto felt, surprisingly, as though he could quite possibly be among the lucky few who were so very happy.

But he would never tell Ryoutarou this. Not at the risk of vulnerably revealing himself as having any kind of gleeful, childlike emotion – however obvious it tended to be to anyone else.

"Yuuto."

And furthermore, he had his pride to think about. In comparison, he was much more capable – he was trusted, a fighter, masculine, withholding responsibilities of his future self. People looked to him, looked up to him, and he, as a result, felt obligated to prove himself, to achieve and pursue some big form of accomplishment.

"Yuuto?"

But also, it was quietly understood between the two of them that, considering that Yuuto was, technically, the brother-in-law that could have been, Yuuto held a large, sensible weight. His future self had been so close, so very close, to forming a family with Airi Nogami – it seemed rather fitting that, at the very least, Yuuto could look after the boy, could try to eradicate all of his pathetic gestures and misconceived notions. Isn't that what brother-in-laws did, anyway? And – although he would never mention it aloud – it was nice. The idea, however abnormal it seemed within the context of his own mind, was comforting.

And what was more incriminating, the idea tempted more thoughts, more ideas. Yuuto felt, during these moments of pain-inducing daydreaming, slightly bewildered and even more so uncomfortable. Such thoughts that centered so thoroughly around the smaller boy were, to say the least, uncalled for in their current scenario. Yuuto knew, although he would never mention it aloud, that certain measures had to be set forward to keep their lives simple; they could both do without the added intrusiveness that came with overcomplicated relationships.

No matter how tempting, albeit agitating, that intrusiveness might have come across.

He felt something tug incessantly on the hem of his shirt. "_Yuuto_," the voice said again, hesitantly.

He rolled his eyes, sighed dramatically. "What?"

He turned around. He looked down at the boy whose hair fell rather gracefully in front of his face. He heard a weak sound, an utterance.

Ryoutarou said, "This is for you."

He watched as the boy summoned, from behind his back, a small, rectangular-shaped package wrapped shoddily in green wrapping paper that characterized a large, jolly man in red. He blinked, made to speak but did not speak. The boy held the gift out with both hands, looked back at him with naïve eyes.

"It's Christmas," he said softly, nervously. "And people give other people gifts on Christmas."

Yuuto stared blankly at the box, as though it were some exotic, foreign thing. "I'm aware of that."

Ryoutarou did not relinquish his hands. He tried again. "People give those that they care about gifts on Christmas, too." He looked at Yuuto, then slowly dropped his gaze to his shoes which were, not so ironically, covered in sand. "Those that are special to them."

Yuuto paused. He said, "Oh."

He took the package out of kindness, looked upon its wrappings momentarily, slowly began to unwrap it. Underneath the wrappings was a white-colored box. He opened it, looked inside.

Ryoutarou waited anxiously. He tried to justify himself. "I didn't really know what to get you, because I wasn't sure of what you liked, so, well, I thought maybe you'd be cold this year. But now, maybe you won't have to be."

It was a painful shade of red, its trimmings clearly done by hand. Yuuto was silent; he placed his hand upon its soft body; there seemed to be life in it.

Ryoutarou spoke up again, softer still, as though he might be ashamed of his offering to the other boy. "But if you don't want it, I suppose Deneb could always-"

"No."

Ryoutarou faltered. "No?" His face changed; Yuuto quickly responded so as to save them both the torture of witnessing such a confused, sad face.

"I'm not going to give it to Deneb." He took it from its box, held it in his hands. After a moment, he added, "I think I'd like to keep it." Then, quite reluctantly, "I like it."

Ryoutarou's face elicited new life. He smiled, nodded, bowed. "I hoped you would," he said happily. "I made it myself. Although Nee-san had to help me sometimes, too. I'm not very good at knitting, but I hope it looks alright."

He took the muffler from Yuuto. With tender hands, he wrapped it around the other boy's neck, tied it securely so that almost no amount of skin could be seen underneath the material's soft texture. Yuuto felt unsure of himself; was he obliged, now, to return the favor? Should he perhaps do something similar for Ryoutarou? He quickly thought on his feet, and contemplated his options. Although he wasn't quite positive as to what Ryoutarou's intentions really were, he was at least confident there was kindness there, definitely kindness – a pure, unwavering kindness that was a rarity in and of itself, not just the usual obligatory novelty that supplied itself during the holidays.

He said, "Thanks." Then, imagining his voice might have sounded too forceful, he lowered his voice, tried to sound more appreciative, "Thank you."

The other boy wore his oblivious smile so proudly.


End file.
